Baby, It's Cold Outside
by QuimbyCub
Summary: Another one of my "Hodgins and Angela must be together" stories. Season four, Post The Bone that Blew. Rating may rise. CH TWO HAS BEEN REVISED!
1. Chapter 1

**I was doing my English homework when I had a chain thought (You know, like word association then I somehow reached the idea of an Angela/Hodgins fic to Baby it's Cold Outside.) Any who this will hopefully develop into a song fic within three chappies. Let me. Fore warning: I'm having focus issues so this might be poorly organized.**

**Disclaimer: they aren't mine. If they were I would push Roxie off a cliff and make Hodgins and Angela get married. And have some reason for Hodgins and booth to not wear shirts. So, yeah not mine.**

The Christmas Eve blizzard has turned the entire D.C. area into a virtual snow globe. Normally I would be enjoying this winter wonderland from home, maybe with a hot beverage and a fresh canvas. But as of three weeks ago Roxie and I have been living together, and as of two hours ago we have no longer been girlfriend and, well, girlfriend. We had a fight, and I asked her to have her things and herself out of my apartment in an hour. But this crap weather, and the fact that I am, honest to god, driving around aimlessly has done very little to make me feel better. I'm driving, so I can't drink. And I haven't got anyone to call and cry to. So, like I said, I have no where to be, and it's been almost two hours and I'm on this familiar street surrounded by old houses, with gated drives, and hundred thousand dollar cars getting snowed in front of the garages.

That's right; I've found myself near Hodgins. I pause each time I pass the Cantilever crest on the wrought iron gate. I toss glances in on the almost empty estate. Jack doesn't have any family left, so he stays home for most holidays, or at least, he's always alone. Except for when I was with him. The house seems quiet, but I can see a fire flickering in the den off the entryway, that's where the liquor cabinet is. That's where I'd be. If I could be with him, that is. If I could tell him that I love him. I do, by the way. Love him.

As I pull away from the driveway for the second or fifth time my car makes an odd sputtering sound and stops. The engine dies. The heat cuts off. The radio, that had barely been audible, was silenced. Not fifty feet of snow away from my true love. "Shit." I sighed, to no one but myself and the snowflakes. But I'll freeze if I stay out here. So, I grab my cell, flip it open, and scroll through my speed dials and contacts. (Of course the first thing that came to mind was calling a taxi, but there's no way I'll get one out here in this storm.) So, I could call Roxie, if I'm willing to admit that I still love Hodgins, which I'm not. I could try Bren; explain that I'm sitting outside of my ex-fiancé's house and..? Besides, she's visiting Russ. Booth's out of town with Parker and Rebecca. Cam's with family as well. My dad? No, he isn't terribly happy about the Hodgins break up. Daddy doesn't get protective often, but when he does, it's not something you want to get involved in. Zack's not an option, and can't drive anyway. Daisy would tell Sweets. Sweets isn't worth the lecture on "true love". Nope, I can't call anyone. But I can't stay out here either 'cause I'll freeze to death.

The guy I'd call to save me is the guy one I reach in two minutes flat. And under most circumstances I'd already be in there, even though we aren't together anymore. So why does my breaking up with Roxie change anything? Is it because I could get him back now? What if he has someone in there? I'd die. But if he's alone and I could talk to him and maybe have a drink, apologize. Then maybe something could happen. After all it is Christmas, if I'm ever going to get a miracle, now's the time.

**Okay peeps, I have little more going but it may not be done in time for Christmas. I have to be on a plane in five days. It will be a song fic, if I continue. But I need feed back, soon. Please. If you don't like to review then favorite or set an alert and then delete it, I don't care. Just lemme know if you wanna see more.**

Q


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright guys, you asked for it. If you were loving Angela's POV, then, sorry.**

Although I believe organized religion is just another political movement designed to control the masses. It doesn't mean God doesn't love me. And it doesn't mean I don't get lonely at Christmas. I have a few good books to keep me company. Some nice liquor at hand. What more do you need to keep you sane over the holidays? _Oh yeah, a woman, a family, company; that would help._

The gardener brought in an impressive twelve foot Douglas fir, set it up in the front hall. I strung lights across the boughs, but it's not the same…alone. I miss having someone to celebrate with. I almost called someone, an old ex. To, well, I heard Dr. Brennan say something about biological urges. It would have been like that if I'd made a few phone calls. But there's only one call that I want to make tonight. And she doesn't love me. _Or at least she's not ready to love me. Maybe if I could get her back to before the engagement. Maybe then she wouldn't feel like she needs to move on. That's the only thing I can think of that would make her run into such an alternative relationship. Maybe Angela got scared. That would explain some things._

I took precautions before I started drinking. They included moving the car keys and every phone, handset or cell, in the house into another room. If I get the nerve to call Angie, I want my wits about me. Once I had that taken care of I put on a few Jazzy Christmas records and sat back with a pile of "great American novels" and a bottle of bourbon. I shake my head sadly down at the vessel, the fact is; I have no self control. If Angela were to pop up on my doorstep I'd very likely jump her _(well, I'd try to get her back into me bed and life, but not that order, necessarily)_. But that'll never happen. She's happy, with that-- with Roxie. There's no reason that Angela would come back around here.

Just as I've settled in with a drink, I hear a sharp rapping at the front door. Who could be calling at this hour? And on Christmas Eve? I toss my paper to the coffee table and make my way to the front door. When I slide open the deadbolt and swing the mahogany slab away, I am astonished by who I reveal. Of all people, I see Angela standing in the whirling snow, I'm certain that she's a drunken hallucination. But I haven't had enough to drink; I haven't had anything to drink, in fact. Still I almost slam the door in her face in an attempt to make this angelic vision dissolve. She looks tired. Her hair is loose around her shoulders. Her clothes are a layer too light for the cold. Her face is clear of make up. And her eyes are clouded with dried up tears. I want to move to her. I want to hold and to comfort her. I want to save and protect her. But I don't know if it is my place anymore. So instead I stand in my doorway, frozen, and wait for her to talk. I watch her. She's stunning. Even in the incandescent flicker of the porch light, she's stunning. Of course it takes a lot for her to not be some form of dumbfounding.

It's been about thirty seconds and she still hasn't said anything, she's sort of avoiding eye contact, like she's embarrassed to be here. So I guess I'd better invite her in. "Angela," I start, feigning professionalism, "Come in, it's freezing out there."

She shuffles inside and I, out of habit remove her coat and hat. Thankfully she doesn't object. I look out the door at the yard before I lock up. "Where did you park?" "Oh," Angela turns to face me, as if she suddenly remembered why she was here. "It's just on the other side of the gate. My engine died. I don't know what happened. I've got half a tank of gas, I've been driving for about two hours, the engine light didn't come on, or anything--"

I interrupted her, mid-rant. "Are you driving Roxie's Truck or your little car?" I try to peer out the window.

"The Camry." Angela answers, suspiciously. "Does that make a difference?" I smile. "Well, the truck can't get stuck in the snow." And if you have the truck then you're definitely still with Roxie. "But the warning lights don't come on with the Camry. You're probably just out of antifreeze." "Oh." Angela sighs, a little embarrassed. "So what do I do about that?" She asks, still kind of jumpy. _I can't tell why she's jumpy. But she's making a __Xenopsylla cheopis_ look calm.

I try to make eye contact with her. "You go sit in the den and defrost." I place a hand at the small of her back and steer her into the next room. "I will go look at your car." "Jack," she objects. Calling me by first name, finally. "I can't let you do that. Just… Can I barrow your phone?" "No." I joke. "Just humor me. Then I'll call you a tow truck, whatever you want. 'Kay?" "Okay." Angela agrees, sinking into the leather sofa_ as I shrug into my over coat a shuffle out into the snow. I want to help her, but I don't really do that much maintenance work on cars. I can rebuild an engine, change a carburetor, But check the oil, re align a fan belt? That's not really fun. So I fun other people do it for me. _

_I lift the hood of the cherry red Toyota and look into the abysmal blackness. I can't see a goddamned thing in there. I shine a flash light around, trying to look like I know what I'm doing. I know where the anti freeze goes, so I check, and yes, it looks empty. But I know that I don't have any that I can give her. Of course if I did… Stop. Just go inside and call someone for her, make sure she's okay. I lower the metal shell and walk back through the swirling of snow to the house. When I get back inside Angela is in the den, my den, sitting on the rug in front of the fire. She has a glass of wine in her right hand and is leaning on to her left. Her knees are tucked beneath her and her gaze is distant, like she she's lost in the image of warmth. I knock gently on the door frame and break her spell. She shakes her head a little and smiles at me. it's a very small, very weak smile, but it's a smile and she's even made eye contact. "So," She begins, starting to sound like herself, "What's the diagnosis doctor?" "Well, you are out of anti freeze. But," I sigh, "I don't have any." I take a few steps closer to her, but stop short and take a seat on an ottoman about three feet from the hearth rug. I glance back to the wine bottle she'd opened. It's at least half empty. "Angela, what happened?"_

_She looks away, back into the fire. "I forgot to get my anti freeze uh filled, right?" she offers. "That's not what I meant." I try to speak softly. "Why were you driving around? Why are you upset? That's what I want to know?" She glanced away again. She waits for a bit, sighs deeply, and starts to stand. "I guess I ought to call a tow truck."_

"_I don't think you'll get one out here in this weather, it's freezing out there." I tell her, honestly. "Well, then maybe…" She stops and thinks for a moment. "I really can't stay." "Baby, it's cold outside."_**I'll try to get like half the next chapter up soon. Let me know what you thought of Hodgins' POV.**

_**I added a few things, some out of recommendation, some not, they're all in italics. Let me know if you think of anything else I should change.**_

**Also, any idea or hints on how to compose ch3? Will you guys keep up if I jump back and forth in one chapter?**

**-Q**


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